Of Blacksmiths and Daughters
by envision2435
Summary: I felt a pair of hands gingerly pull me up, then gently curl under the crook in my knees and encircle my back. "You're safe now, I'll protect you. I promise," and I was lost in black once more. He had failed; twice now. Once when he did not protect Amelia, and now, when he let the general have his way with little Avanya. Eventual Athos/OC
1. Chapter 1

The repeated slam of metal on metal echoed through the workshop; another sward to be finished, another night of no sleep. I would have believed myself to have grown accustomed to such noises at this point: growing up with them as it were. And yet, when a project went unfinished I went without sleep. It was a hard job, and mighty in its undertaking, and yet my father pushed on, always dependable. He was a blacksmith, his swards of the highest caliber. He could fetch a pretty penny for his craft, but alas, he made next to nothing. Do not misunderstand, he has made what I would guess, thousands of swards in his life, and yet he does not demand pay for the most of them. No, he supplied the only people he felt worthy enough in France to duel swards; the musketeers.

He had been one when his body allowed, too this day I hear stories of the glory days, and how he was a force to be reckoned with. But as his character has always been, stubborn as a mule, he refused to completely be put out of the game, and spent the rest of his life after that fatal day, making sure the men in blue were always well kept in artillery. He supplied anything they needed: swards, knives, guns, bullets, anything that could kill a man he crafted with the utmost care.

And so, here he was pounding away at yet another device of death, and I couldn't help but smile. It sounds twisted perhaps, but that sound always reassured me that everything would be alright, that he was supplying those who would protect us, and that we would always be protected. The current and most prominent of the musketeers were close to my father, all three, adding a fourth some four years ago, came to him for much more than weapons. Guidance and wisdom were always high on the list along with crafted steal, and their visits had been constant since before I could remember; especially after mother was killed. They came bringing anything they could, at least once a week if not more. That had started when I was a child, nine years of age, some twelve years ago now, and the visits never waned, unless of course they were on a mission. Even so, the first stop, besides getting themselves plastered, was to come and have dinner, regaling my father with their great tales of adventure.

They were family, plain and simple. We all cared for one another in ways that any normal family would do, though we were a patchwork of sorts. All of them at one point came seeking my woman's intuition and insight about the opposite sex, and they taught me sword play and cunning. My father would sit back with feigned disapproval, and we would chuckle at his calloused but teasing comments and snipes.

That's why whenever I heard the pounding of my father's work, I felt protected. Because I knew that meant one, if not all four, would be there by morning. And who could harm us if the three musketeers were by our side?

I learned the answer to that question much too soon.

XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxX

By some miracle I had fallen asleep in the early hours of the morning. The sun had yet to rise, but the tell-tale pitter patter told me it was to be another stormy day. A small upturn of my lips and I was stretching my hands over my head as I let out a contented sigh. I never slept much, but when I did, I felt better than I had in ages, and so it was today.

It was only after swinging my legs over the side of my bed that I noticed something very important: the clanging had stopped.

The sword was not done, I had seen the state it ws in before I retired for the night, and it was no where near completion. Something was wrong, I could feel it.

Slowly I took hold of the sword hanging merely for decoration on my wall, and slowly crept towards my door, listening for anything besides rain drops hitting the tin roof.

Muffled voices met my ears in what sounded to be an argument. I continued my journey down the dark hall, bringing to mind the mental map I had made from years of walking the same halls.

"Perhaps we should wake Avanya?"

"No! You leave my daughter out of this!" My foolishness had done me in, as I had paused to strain my ears listening; I had failed to notice the man behind me. he quickly locked my arms to the side of my body and I dropped the sword with little choice.

"Let go of me! What the hell are you doing in my house!" my voice was thick, as I tried to cover my fear with anger.

"General," the man holding me in a crushing grip dragged me into the small living room and presented me before his commander.

My eyebrows furrowed in confusion, as I recognized the man almost instantly.

"General Mephius?" the man that stood so threateningly before me was the son of the general of the musketeers, or at least he was in the days of my father. Mephius was nearly my father's age now, and they had been dear friends from what I recall of my father's stories. He was a common character in my younger years, but I had not laid eyes on him in ages.

"My word how she's grown, hasn't she Grimaud? How quickly they go from children," his advances towards me made a very unsettling feeling in the pit of my stomach and I knew why I hadn't seen him in ages. His eyes were dark with mischief and calamity. He looked positively mad. "To beautiful women." His hand found my face and he gently caressed my cheek. I looked at him attempting courage but did not know what to feel. He was trusted here; he knew of my father's secrets and had been a very stable presence after mother died. Just as quickly as he had been kind, he turned vile, throwing his head back in my father's direction and he advanced like a predator.

"You know much of women don't you?!" He nearly spat the words in papa's direction, and the anger and rage I heard shook me to the bone. "You took her from me! You stole my love, and then you gave her nothing of what she deserved!" his hand connected hard and the resounding crack had me screaming for him to stop. I shook violently against the hold on me, but the hands were steady. My heart felt as if it were bursting out of my chest as I called to my father over and over again.

"You took her from me and then you killed her!" the rage blew, and he began a thorough accost on my father. It felt like eternity before he stop, and when he looked back at me, blood covered his person, his eyes a dark red illuminated by the lit fire close by.

"I want you to see your father for what he truly is. A coward!" he grabbed him roughly by the shoulders and hauled him to his feet. Blue eyes met my brown and he looked tired, defeated, and then I saw the sorrow. My chest constricted and I knew he was telling me goodbye. I froze on spot and my eyes left those clouded blue to watch as the general withdrew his sword, one my father had made for him.

"If there was one good thing about you, it was your skills as a blacksmith," his twisted smile sent a shiver down my spine, and the crony holding me tightened his grip. "I want you to know that your bastard child watched you die, and I want you to know I will have my way with her before I leave her here to rot," my father began to struggle as the reality of his words set in, but before I could blink the cold steel pressed firmly against his throat, and the world froze.

It felt like hours, watching the blade slice deeply into the confines of my only true family's neck. The only thing I could hear was the pounding of my heart, and a screech that I would later associate came from my own throat.

When the general had ripped through, one side to the other, blood was everywhere. All over me all over the living room, it stuck to everything in its wake, and I could smell the bitter scent in my nostrils. My eyes found blue, but they were nothing that I was used to. Dark and empty, I looked into the eyes that raised me, loved me, eyes that I held nothing but pure adoration for.

I was no longer worried of how I looked to anyone in the room, as I only remained calm for the sake of my flesh and blood. Now that he was nothing more than those two things, I broke.

"Sir… she's giving me quite the time," I heard the general's man say. A part of me smirked at that, and I continued my tirade. Screaming and bucking, kicking anything in my leg's reach, screeching at the top of my lungs. I saw the blow before I felt it, but when I did I wish I hadn't. I was dropped unceremoniously to the hard wooden floor, and cracked my eyes just enough to see those leering red eyes staring down at me.

"I told your father I would have my way with you. I cannot simply go back on such a word, what kind of man would that make me?" his sneer would have frightened me more had I not been falling into unconsciousness.

The sudden slap I felt hit my face and the biting cold hitting my once covered legs awoke me awareness and I struggled once more before all strength left me. I saw his dirty face come closer to mine before I felt lips and teeth connect with my neck. I whimpered in distaste and I felt him chuckle.

"You should be honored to be taken by such a man. You are a mere bastard child, living in the woods, not family, barely any money. But me, ah, I am a general; I have anything given to me simply by a word. Be willing and perhaps I will take you back with me. I need a new whore anyhow," his jeer enraged me, and gathering what little wit I had left, I spit with all my might. His displeased look quickly turned into unchecked rage, and he sneered down at me.

"I will make you regret that!" and all went black.

XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXx

Cold, biting, blinding and terribly cold, that was the only thing my brain could register. I felt numb in some places, aching in others. I had no strength to lift myself, and it was with great terror that I began to hear muffled sounds: voices. I could not make out intelligent speech, but something resonated with me: I knew this voices. Didn't i? I had heard them countless times in my life. They made me feel… secure? Safe, protected? Who could provoke such a strong sense of security within me, after all that has happened? I believe if I could have bit my lip and caused it to bleed I would have. If I could shake from sorrow and rage, I would have. If my eyes could open and release the tears I could feel pushing tightly up against my lids, I would have. But I could not, and so I sat there, soreness awakening my sense of pain as I recalled what had happened: the general's accost on my father, slitting his throat plainly before me, calling for me to be his whore and then… all the violence. Two things were taken from me in such short time: my father, and my innocence.

"Avanya!" my brain began to understand what the voices had been calling, and I found it to be a strangled version of my name. It was coated thickly with emotion, the same I would most likely find my voice coated in if I ever were to speak again.

"Avanya!" it was a desperate cry now, one of great sorrow, and I heard he who possessed the voice to be full of fear.

"I've found her!" a voice called, it less so covered with emotion, but it was still obvious that it was there.

"D'Artagnan fetch her a blanket, she lies uncovered," this voice was angry, it held a bite that worried me so. I had heard such a tone the last time I had been conscious and it had not turned out well. I could do nothing when hands gently rolled me to my side, pulling my face from the damp ground, and I realized then it was pouring rain. The cold water pellets assaulted my skin and chilled me to the bone. A hand gently touched my face and I flinched from pain. I felt the swollen skin hiss in disagreement to being touched.

"Avanya, can you hear me? Open your eyes, can you look at me?" a voice was firm but held a gentle tone, and I tried to comply with the voice's requests. Slowly I felt my eyelids creek open just as a felt cloth draped over my freezing person. Slowly my eyes ran from the arm cradling my head gently to the face and eyes that it belonged to.

"Athos?" my voice cracked, but I felt relief come rushing in as I felt myself break all over again. His face was stony, but as always, his eyes told a very different story. They looked relieved, enraged, and sorrowful. The myriad of emotion swirling in succession was overwhelming and I looked away.

"We need to get her somewhere warm. She will die of illness before the sun comes up," I felt a pair of hands gingerly pull me up, then gently curl under the crook in my knees and encircle my back. I was pressed into a warm chest and I sluggishly draped my arms around his neck, pressing my head into the spot where his neck met his shoulders.

Before I lost consciousness once more, I heard soft words flutter down to my ear as I felt lips gently press to my temple. "You're safe now, I'll protect you. I promise," and I was lost in black once more.


	2. Chapter 2

_Three weeks later _

I busied myself after my recovery, if one could call it that. I had awoken, given an account, though lacking details after the murder of my father, and tried to breathe again. I lived with the musketeers in Paris, and had yet to visit the place I had once thought of as home. They had told me a week after my recovery that Mephius had burned it to the ground, and little was left of the actual building. The land was scarred from the flames, and it would have consumed the smithery as well had it not been for the rain. I simply nodded and agreed as they told me the plans for my father's funeral, even though it would lack an actual body to burry. Besides the account and simple one word answers, I refrained from talking, as I had little to say. What does one say after witnessing the murder of a loved one, and then being brutalized repeatedly and left to drown in the mud and rain? And so I kept quiet.

Each member of the esteemed Musketeers had tried their own methods at getting me to talk; Aramis brought me to a local abbey and had me light a candle for my father. Porthos offered me a bottle everyday hoping to get me plastered enough that I would speak up. D'Artagnan took me for walks in the village and surrounded forests; he knew how much I loved to walk. We had become good friends in the time he had joined the three men. We were very close in age, and had a natural friendship with one another, similarities that kept us close, and kept us talking for hours. I felt a bit sorry that I would not offer that at the time. I heard his troubles with Constance had begun to encroach over on the good they had, yet he never spoke a word of it, always trying to get me to talk. The worst though, I think, was Athos. He would not look in my direction, in those five minutes he was actually in the building they called home. Aramis said he was hunting the general down, but it was not as much a comfort as I would have hoped it to be. By now I'm sure the general heard of my survival, and all four believed he would come to finish what he had started not a month ago.

The front door opened behind me and I turned to see Athos walk in determinedly, avoiding my eyes and presence altogether, he called for the other three soldiers and they all spilled into the adjacent dining room. The paper thin walls allowed me to overhear the conversation if I strained. The hushed voices were silenced by Athos.

"I found Mephius. He is on mission not twenty miles from here," straight and to the point as always, I heard deafening silence. The general was near, which meant they were planning an attack, which meant my father would be avenged. I trembled with anticipation at the thought.

"What do we do?"

"More importantly what do we tell Avanya?"

"How are we going to kill him?"

The dish I had been washing slipped from my hands, and crashed nosily to the ground, shattering into tiny pieces on the floor. I could hear the scrapping of chairs in the other room, and I was opening the door just as it was being opened from the other side. I pushed through, and my eyes filled with fire.

"You do nothing, you tell me where he is, and you let me handle how he dies," my palm laid flat against the table top, and three pairs of eyes looked rather startled by my sudden speech. One pair looked unimpressed and annoyed. My chocolate brown eyes met with cold green ones, and the staring contest began.

"You are not accompanying us on this. You have no experience, and you are emotionally involved,"

"And you are not?! You loved my father as dearly as I did! You and I both know this is the definition of emotionally involved!"

"It is different; we are trained to deal with this type of…"  
"He is MINE!" my shout resonated of the walls and I felt the growl escape my throat unbidden. "He is mine. I will avenge my father. It was me who stood and watched helplessly as that monster slit his throat! It was me that had to scrub for days to get his blood out of my hair, and get the tint of red out of my skin! It was me whose house was burnt to the ground, who lost a father! General Mephius will be met by my face as he breathes his last! Understand?!" It was with wild eyes that I slammed my palm on the table, causing everything on it to wobbled, and the sound to bounce of the walls. I stood my ground, eyes locked with Athos. He looked indifferent and completely unemotional, but I knew better.

A knock on the door broke our little group from the predicament. Athos left to answer the door, and I tore through the back door, heading straight for the woods. My mind drifted back to another time. I was so young, and so happy, it felt foreign to me now.

My eyes water as I remembered my mother's lovely golden hair and deep mahogany eyes. My father had deep brown hair that shined red in the sun, and stunning oceanic blue eyes. I was ten when they took my mother from me. I remembered it vividly, as it was the day of my birthday when the guards came crashing into the house, demanding that my father pay for all the pain he had caused. They came crashing through in midday. The only thing that saved my own life was the sudden appearance of Athos, where he came from or how he knew we were in trouble I never did discover.

"_You are certainly old now! How quickly you've grown my dear!" Grimaud looked beamingly down at his now ten year old daughter, her brown hair that she inherited from him and sparkling brown hair she was gifted from him. She was the perfect mix between him and his beloved wife, and he held her dearly. She was everything a father could hope for and everything a father feared. _

_He tried to smile as his wife passed him, cake in hand, but could not bring himself to keep once she'd walked by. He had a feeling, a very bad one at that. People were looking for him, people who had reasons to hurt his family, and he could not stand by and pretend everything was okay, but he had no other options. He smiled and acted as if everything was fine when he knew otherwise. But he looked happily down at his ever excited daughter and it eased him minutely. _

"_Daddy! Can't we start with the cake!" she pouted slightly and he couldn't help but laugh at her antics, but it was immediately silenced when he heard the tell-tale signs of hooves pounding hard against the ground, a lot of hooves. _

"_Amelia get Avanya in the house now!" his tone was sharp and made fear creep up the woman's spine, doing what he said quickly and effectively. _

"_Honey you have to be quite, do you understand, do not make a sound," she commanded her young daughter strictly and she simply nodded her head gently. _

_They hid in the small pantry behind some large crates of rice and flour, quite as they could. Both tried their hardest to hear the commotion going on outside._

"_Did you think you could hide forever? The things you did… you will pay with your life!" Avanya gasped quietly and Amelia silenced her immediately. _

"_Why do you not fight musketeer? No last words or attempt at freedom?" silence was his only response. They heard the shuffling of horses and boot hitting the ground._

"_I never took you for a gardener. You always had red thumbs, not green," he spat out. "Perhaps you got yourself a wife, made her do all this work," silence was again the older man's only answer._

"_So you did! Well, the price for your sins has gone up. I will claim your wife's life as well," _

"_NO!" the shout was followed by the sound of metal hitting metal as swords collided with one another and the scuffle started. _

_A bellowing voice was heard above the calamity, its tone defiant "Tear this place apart, but find me his wife and bring her to me!" _

_The front door slammed open and the sound of heavy footfalls was followed by the sound of destruction. They were literally tearing the place apart. _

_Not a moment later the little wooden door was nearly torn off its hinges and a man came in, easily spying the man's family cowering behind the crates. "You… two? Oh, a daughter too! Boss is gonna be sure happy about this!" he grabbed an arm of each woman and dragged them out from their hiding place. Amelia cried out, begging him to release the little girl. He pulled them out front, standing them on the edge of the little porch that wrapped around the house, cocking his gun and placing it on Amelia's temple. The sound registered in Grimaud's mind and he turned his attention towards the noise, coming face to face with his worst fears. _

"_A wife and child; my, my, you make my job easier Grimaud," a moment passed and slowly the former musketeer lowered his weapon, throwing it across the yard and putting his hands up in defeat. _

_The man Avanya could see was now perched back on his horse, looking rather pleased._

"_Very good old friend, you've made the right choice," he turned his head to the man holding Avanya and smirked a twisted smile. "Slit her throat," both mother and father cried out as the cool touch of metal hit the child's throat. _

_A shot rang out, and five men came running into the fray, throwing their swords, easily taking down advisories as they went. There deep blue uniforms a drastic contrast to the black the others wore. Athos came around the corner, jumping from his horse and began battle nearest the porch, attempting to reach the two women there. Grimaud grabbed his attention and motioned urgently in their direction. _

"_Athos! Get them out of here!" the man nodded, quickly stabbing the man holding Avanya and kicking the one holding Amelia over the rails of the porch. _

"_We have to go," he said quickly, grabbing Avanya by the hips and picking her up, running with Amelia not far behind._

"_I can't leave Grimaud, I know sword play, and I cannot run from a fight!" her voice was firm and she turned quickly. Athos went to reach for her but she was out of grabbing range. "Get my daughter to safety!" A sword nearly took off Athos ' hand and Avanya's head before he combated back, killing him quickly. "Now! I do not want my daughter exposed to this!" and then she was gone, her golden hair ruffled by the wind as she fought with strength and valor. Athos stood frozen for only a second before he ran to his horse, leapt on, and placed the little girl in front of him, one arm wrapped around her to keep her on the animal. _

"_Momma!" she had fought his hold around her waist as she twisted to see her mother, but could not. it was the last time she would see her mother, and inadvertently, the last time she would see a smile truly reach her father's eyes. _

Unlike many other times she remembered that fateful day, her eyes remained dry, and she felt her heart grow a bit colder. There was no time to regret the past, only time to plan the future. She had ended up firmly planted against a long by some ruins a couple miles outside of town. She sat ram rod straight staring into the stone that once held a family, that was once a home. She saw the burn marks from cannons, the scars the married the otherwise clear stone. She could relate.

"You shouldn't be out alone while the general is so close," his tone was clipped and annoyed. He was favoring the mix lately I see.

"Perhaps that was my plan all along,"

"To face a heavily armed advisory with nothing but your wits and a dish towel to aid you?" I had only just realized I'd taken the small cloth with me when I stormed out. I watched from the corner of my eye as Athos rounded the log effectively crossing the space between us.

"I never said it was a good plan," I retorted, making sure my face was blank. He himself had taught me never to express emotion if it could be helped.

"And what of it when you come face to face with the man who took everything from you, who betrayed you and hurt you in ways no one can understand? What then? Will you have your wits about you Olive?" the old nickname both touched and angered me. I had loved olives when I was young, and if Athos visited a place that actually had them, he was always sure to nab some for me. But alas, I am no longer a child, I have seen far too much to be so naive.

"I will have a sword and a slow burning rage. These are the only things I will need, do not worry yourself, I am not a child any longer. I have lost all things innocent against my will, and I stand now survivor Athos, do not discount that." His face turned from me to the ground and he looked pensive, in pain even, his face contorted and his brows furrowed. When he returned his eyes to me, I saw raw emotion there, something I had not seen in a very long time.

"I have failed you twice. I have failed your father twice. I can never do enough to make up for that, but I will try my very best to. You will not lose your life over this, I swear to it. you will not leave my sight, you will not come to harm and you will not find pain again. I swear this to you," his steely determination was nearly frightening.

"Will you then allow me to take his life? Avenge my father?" I asked slowly. He looked me in the eye and gave a gruff sigh.

"I cannot dissuade you from this fool's errand can I?"

"Not in the least."

We sat in silence and he pondered.

"Train me." I said simply and his head shot up to look at me. "You have been teaching me sword play and how to properly throw a knife for years. So continue, but not so casually. Train me so I will not be the helpless creature you make me out to be." I threw my hadn between us and he looked down at it then back up at me. his eyes softend and I saw worry. My resolute stare softened as well and I slowly raised my hand, resting it gently on his gruff cheek.

"You are worried for me. I can see it," my eyes locked on his and my other hand moved to the other side of his face. I held it firmly in my hands, making sure he was listening.

"I know there is nothing I can do to make you think otherwise, but I am able to do this and come out alive. I am able to avenge and not lose my soul. Do not think of me as a child Athos, I am not naïve, I do not believe this quest simple; I know it will be difficult. But none the less, it is one I must do," his hands wrapped around my wrists, and slowly lowered my hands from his face.

"I cannot break another promise to your father." He looked imploring, his hands firmly wrapped around my wrists, he turned his hips to face me more properly on the log we sat still on.  
"Then I promise you, you won't,"

He was silent for a moment, and I held my breath.

"We start tomorrow. The moment the sun is up."

And so it begins.

XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXx

He watched as she turned back to smile gently at him, then head up the stairs that lead to her rooms. He heard the door close, and collapsed on a nearby chair, head in his hands. The crackling fire drew his eyes from his palms, and it captured his attention, rendering him unresponsive. He sat in the present but his mind was far in the past. Twelve years prior to this, the day he realized he would forever be linked to the family, to _her_.

"_What did you bring me!? What did you bring me!?" little Avanya excited face met the very amused one of Athos. He had been done nearly a month, and hadn't laid eyes on his little friend in quite some time. She stood a very proud nine years of age, and bright brown eyes shined with uncontained excitement- Athos always brought something back for her. At twenty five, he had seen things, been places, and done things he could never take back, but bringing a little girl something that made her smile so big it seemed to split her face in half, eased his conscious somewhat. _

"_My dear girl you are being impolite! Say hello to Athos before you demand a gift, poor man's traveled miles to see you and you can't even say hello?" the girl looked reproachful and ran up to hug Athos tightly. Athos laughed and bent down to pick the small girl from the ground allowing her better access as she squeezed his neck and whispered a hello in his ear. He let the small girl down and turned to look at her father. The friendly face of __Grimaud greeted the young musketeer and the older man smiled at the newest member of the team. He watched the interaction of the two and pondered it for a moment. Athos had taken a shining towards his daughter, and she to him. They were always happier in one another presence, and even though she was much younger, their conversations were always interesting. _

_After a moment the father called gently to Athos who had just finished a rather amusing tale from his latest adventure for the king of France. He excused himself with a very bombastic bow, and said he would return to tell her the rest of the story after talking to her father. _

"_Is everything alright Grimaud?" his voice was gentle but held a promise that Grimaud knew well. This young man had become family over the last three years, and would do anything for the family. They, essentially were his family, as he had none to speak of, and these good people had taken him in when all he came asking for was a sword. _

"_There's been rumors… some of my old adversaries are to be in France, and their asking after me," his normally calm tone was raised slightly, and panic filled Grimaud eyes. When he looked up at Athos he was steely in his determination. "I need you to promise me, if anyone comes looking for me, and I can't fight them off, you will look after my family," Athos eyes immediately went to the brunette giggling as her beautiful mother chased her around the front of the house. Amelia's arms encircled her daughter and she swung the giggling girl in the air, arms swinging around in happiness. When his green eyes met that of the man he considered a father figure his eyes filled with steel and determination. _

"_I will protect them in any way I can. No harm will come to them if I am living, and able," his voice held a finality that seemed to calm the older man considerably. _

He had failed; twice now. Once when he did not protect Amelia, and now, when he let the general have his way with little Avanya. She was not so little anymore, he tried to remind himself; she was grown, capable, and able. She was just like her mother: strong and uncaring of custom, brash but understanding when time came. And she was lovely, beautiful, though not in the common way. Her defined and sharp features lured you in, and her deep chocolate eyes kept you there. She was intelligent, logical and could be level headed, but she saw anger and emotion as a strength in battle, when it was very much a weakness. Athos knew from experience.

With one more sigh he stood up and headed for the cabinet, knowing only one way to quiet his ever active mind.

He needed a drink.


End file.
